Summer Vainglorious
by rainingmercedes
Summary: My own made up interactions between Katniss and Peeta before they leave for their Victory Tour in Catching Fire.
1. Chapter 1

I can feel the sweat settling in the hollows of my body like just below my throat and the small of my back. The heat has been stiflingly hot these past few weeks. District 12 needs a nice rain.

It's been a month since Peeta and I returned from the Games. We still have not spoken since that moment he offered me his hand on the train. We smiled and kissed for the cameras, but after, every time I run into him somewhere, he almost refuses to look at me. Haymitch says this can't go on-we don't want anyone in the district to let our cool behavior slip to interviewers when we leave for the Victory Tour. So it is up to me to bridge the gap between Peeta and me. Today.

Before I know it, I've made the quick walk from my new house to his and I've slipped in his door uninvited. He must be baking. The inside of his house is like an oven. The air is thick with the scent of cinnamon. His house is set up similarly to mine, so without a sound, I navigate my way down his hall and into his kitchen and take a seat at his counter facing the ovens. He's bending down, reaching in to pull out a loaf of freshly baked bread. While his back is turned to me, I form one incredulous thought: _In the privacy of his own home, Peeta Mellark bakes in the nude. _

Peeta slowly turns and sets the bread pan on the counter to the left of me. I swear, the temperature raised at least a couple of degrees. His blond curls are tousled carelessly over the side of his face. There's a thin layer of sweat on his forehead and upper lip. I try not looking at the muscles in his arms and chest, but end up looking there anyway. His blue eyes glance up and he starts.

"Katniss! What are you doing here?"

I'm caught. I know my face is burning bright red.

"I wanted to see you. _Talk. _ I wanted to _talk _to you." I blurt out, unable to look at him.

"Okay," he half laughs. "Wait here, I'll be right back."

I hear him step away and cast my eyes around. "Where are you going?" I call out, slightly annoyed.

"Getting dressed," he replies from another room.

"I thought you didn't care if I see you?" I say in a mocking tone.

"Well, I know how uncomfortable you get about that stuff," he teases back. He's returned and still buttoning up the blue and white striped shirt he's thrown on. I wonder how he got dressed so fast. He looks at me with a knowing smile and immediately I'm irritated.

"You're still laughing about that!"

Peeta shrugs, sobering. "It _is_ kinda funny," he says. "So what's up?"

I don't answer. The oven mitts he'd tossed astray on the counter have caught my eye. They're a pale pink. One has a pig's face embroidered on it, and the other a pig's tail and backside.

"House warming gift from my mother," he says as he grabs them and hangs them on the hooks in the wall next to the oven. And in that moment, I think I miss him the most. In nearly one fluid motion, I hop down from the tall chair, walk around the counter, and throw my arms around him. I can feel him hesitate for just a second before he hugs me back.

"Don't be mad at me anymore," I say, and then I'm kissing him, and he's kissing me back. I realize what I'm doing and pull away a little.

"Okay," he says gently, "I'm not mad." He's cupping my face in his hands and looking into my eyes.

I need to get out of this house. It's too hot in here and I feel almost dizzy. Before he can kiss me again, I say, "Because I really want us to be friends."

"Friends?" he asks, clearly angry again. He steps back. "Friends? What _was_ that? Friends don't come into my house and kiss me."

"You were naked!" I yell.

"I was alone in my own house! And I'm what, supposed to believe you just couldn't help yourself? Yeah, right, Katniss."

I can hear the anger rising in my voice as well. "Well if you don't want to at least be nice, then fine!"

"Whatever," I hear him spit out as I stomp my way out his house.

***

After the disaster with Peeta, I decided to go hunting. I'm home now, and my mother is frying up a squirrel and greens I'd brought back with me. Prim sits beside me, reading her homework for the next day.

"Katniss," I hear her say.

I grin. "Yes, little duck?" It doesn't fool her. She asks me what's wrong. "Nothing," I respond, my smile still pasted in place.

Prim snuggles in close to me. "Katniss," she wheedles.

I sigh. She is relentless. "I went to see Peeta this afternoon," I start.

"It didn't go well?"

"No." I frown, mulling over what parts to leave out.

"Were you mean to him?" she asks in a somewhat scolding tone.

"No!" I nearly squawk. "I was very _not_-" and I pause, because she's also giving me that knowing look. Instead of anger, I feel a little shame. "Maybe a little," I concede.

"You could try again tomorrow," she proposes. Buttercup jumps into her lap, instantly purring. "Who's a pretty kitty?" she mollycoddles him.

"No," I say. I think about going hunting again. And visiting Madge after she's let out of school. "No, it's best to leave him alone." And then I flash to how I found him. I realize how hungry I am, so I decide to go set the table for dinner.


	2. Chapter 2

I hold up the shimmery blue-green dress Prim had carefully selected from a shop in town. I had feigned enthusiasm for her sake. And she's coming with me tonight, so I'll have to keep it up. As I slip into the frock, I think back to that day, about a week and a half after I had walked in on Peeta's naked baking:

I had gone hunting, like usual. Not long after I breached the fence did it start to cloud up and downpour. I was annoyed because the sky had shown no signs that a storm was on the way. Most animals would be taking shelter from the storm, so that left me with the traps and killing things that get flushed out from their hiding places. I worked quickly so that I could make it home and warm up inside. My hunting clothes were soaked through. And then I tripped over a new trap Gale had set not long ago. Covered in mud, I was livid. Cursing Gale's name, I reset the trap and gathered up my game bag. Then I began stalking back to District 12, not even bothering to wipe off my face.

The walk was long. I couldn't stop shivering. As I set foot inside the house, I grimaced, knowing my mother would be upset if I muddied her clean floors.

"Prim?" I called out, "Would you get me a towel?" My teeth chattered and I continued to tremble uncontrollably.

"Here," I heard Peeta's voice as he wrapped something around my shoulders and held me, rubbing warmth into my back and arms as he did so. Confused, I not only welcomed his heat, but leaned into it. "Haymitch said I shouldn't have yelled at you like that," he whispered, "I'm sorry."

Enveloped in his strong arms, my body heated up. I pressed into him even further. It's his fault that I'd already gotten his nice shirt dirty, anyway. And he smelled so good.

"Katniss?" Prim appeared, bearing a towel. I took it gladly and wiped my face dry. Then I patted Peeta's shirt.

"Sorry about-"

"Doesn't matter," he interrupted. He stared at me a while. I felt uncomfortable because I knew I must have looked like a drowned rat. I started drying off my hair.

"Peeta brought cheese buns. I told him they were your favorite."

I awkwardly looked up at him. "Thanks."

"You're welcome," he replied. "Listen, I came over because my brother's getting married next Sunday. I'd like you and Prim," he smiled at her, "and your mother, of course, to come."

Sunday. Sundays are my days with Gale. I bit my lip.

"Could we go, Katniss?" Prim asked, not daring to get too excited. I couldn't refuse her if I tried.

I gave her a laugh. "Of course we can go."

"Great. I'll see you girls then," Peeta said, and slipped out the door and into the rain.

So today's the big day. I have Prim do my hair. She braids small chunks of it here and there and weaves in teal colored feathers.

"You look beautiful," she says when she's finished. It's a simple look, minus the feathers. I touch one that has stuck out. "Peeta's going to love it," she insists. A light blush spreads across my face.

***

Madge and I sit at one of the long tables set up in the meadow, nibbling bits of cake. I keep looking at the intricate flowers that I know were iced by Peeta's delicate touch. I make it a point not to think about his precise hands running through my hair.

The wedding has a big turnout. Mostly people from in town. It's just getting dark now, but the celebration's not yet over.

"Katniss, look!" Madge grins, gesturing toward the dancing. I follow her line of sight til I catch Peeta dancing with Prim. They gallop in time with the other couples around the circle and then stop to spin around to the music. Her face flushed, I can see Prim laughing in the torchlight.

The song ends, and Prim points in our direction before dragging him over. "Hey Katniss. Madge. _This one's_ a little too much for me," he states, giving Prim an affectionate tickle in the ribs. "I need someone who'll give me a break. Katniss? Care to dance?"

"All right," I say. As our hands meet, I feel a light shock, as if we are electrified.

He leads me over to an empty space in the grass and a flute starts up the tune.

"Ohh," I breathe, "doesn't sound like you'll be getting that break." He and I both know this song. It starts off slow, but then speeds up halfway through. There aren't any partner exchanges, either.

"That's okay," he says and just smiles at me like I'm the only person there. He steers me around the other couples expertly, and twirls me perfectly in time. We break and circle the group on our turn then retrieve our spot on the green. With the firelight flickering on his face, I'm struck by how beautiful he is. He steps toward me. "You ready for this?" he asks.

"Definitely," I say, and then the flute sounds a solo, the drum beats louder, and the few other instruments speed up. And we're off, nearly running to keep from falling behind everyone else. Peeta's leg trips him up once in a while, but he's quick to catch up. The others in the crowd not dancing have begun clapping in time with the music. On cue, we break away, loop around, and come back, and as soon as our hands touch again, the music stops to signal the end of the dance. I don't let go of his hand.

"So are you having a good time?" he asks as I walk him toward the edge of the meadow, close to the fence. We're out of the torchlight now and barely lit by the stars.

"Yeah," I say, before I reach up and kiss him. I keep my lips on his til his resolve breaks and he kisses me back. "Are you?" I ask.

"Excellent," he breathes, searching my face for some kind of answer. "Katniss-"

I lock our lips before he can utter another word. His hands rove up the small of my back and I can hear my blood roaring through my veins. I get that hunger again that I felt briefly in the arena and I lose myself in my own quiet need for him.

"Peeta!" I hear a loud screech from behind me.

In milliseconds, I flash from startled to deeply annoyed. I lift my head and turn a bit to see Peeta's mother glaring down at us. I vaguely remember us stumbling backward into the grass. I back off him. His dazed expression shifts as he focuses on her.

"Your father and I are taking Liam and Rose to their new house. You should go say goodbye to them before they leave. And be sure you button up your shirt," she snaps.

Peeta tells her that he's coming and she turns to leave. Then he pulls me down and gives me another deep kiss. "I love you," he whispers before kissing my forehead. And then he's gone after his mother.

While I'd like to think that we'd have stopped on our own before I ripped his clothes off and had him right here... I find the fact that his mother cockblocked him frustrating. Yet my annoyance ebbs to relief, because I'm not sure what would have happened otherwise. And I feel awful. I should definitely _not_ have been kissing him. Again.

I make my way back over to where I'd left Madge and Prim. The cake is gone. They're building card houses. "Very nice," I say as I sit down.

My ears perk up at the mention of Peeta's name a few feet from us. Madge and I share a look: she's listening, too.

"If you ask me, she doesn't deserve him. I mean, you watch him onscreen, and you can just tell he loves her sooo much, and she's just snippy and nags at him _all_ the time. Katniss has _no idea_ how lucky she is!"

"I know! Peeta's like this muscular blond bread god, and she's just this skinny girl from the Seam who hangs out with her cousin _wayy_ too much."

Madge raises an eyebrow. "_Muscular blond bread god?_" And we both laugh. Prim looks up, her concentration on the card house waning.

"He's a regular man-beast," I add.

"Who's a man-beast?" Peeta asks from behind. He's sneaked up on me. I look at Prim, and she just appears perplexed.

"Haymitch," Madge answers, and we erupt into another round of laughter.

"Wow, so of all the names you could have thrown out there, Haymitch's was your best choice?" He sits down next to me.

"Seemed like it," I say. I catch Madge's eye and we're both trying not to laugh again.

Peeta grabs my hand and laces his fingers with mine. I suddenly get the awful feeling that those girls are right: I _don't_ deserve him. He's in love with me, and... have I been taking advantage of him? Have I been just using him for his body? I care about him, certainly, but.. is that it? I think of how Gale would look at me in disgust, and I don't like it.

"Prim, it's getting late. I think we should get home. You have school in the morning," I prompt.

"Okay," she says in a yawn. It does not go unappreciated. Madge stands up first and says she ought to be getting home, too.

After we've said our goodbyes to Madge, Peeta leans over to kiss me, but I turn ever so slightly so that he gets my cheek and not my lips. He notices and gives me a look as if to say, "what's wrong _now_?"

"Goodnight, Peeta," Prim says, and we leave him in confusion.

A/N: This entire story is dedicated to my friend Dressgirl from the land of imdb. She assures me that my writing doesn't suck, lol. :P


	3. Chapter 3

"I'm trying!" I shout.

"Really?" Haymitch scowls at me. "Because it looks like you're deliberately screwing things up." And then he mimics my voice, "Peeta, let's make out while I grope you in the dark. By the way, we're still just friends!"

I glare at him. "That's _not_ what happened," I say evenly.

"Do I look stupid? You think no one noticed you two disappearing to the shadows and then him coming back with his hair mussed up, _and_ that _no one_ knows what that means?" He takes a swig from his bottle and squints at it in disappointment. Then he downs the last gulp and sighs. "Be with him or don't, Sweetheart. You can't have him both ways."

The sound of his front door opening shifts our attention. Haymitch turns back to me. "Don't run off," he orders.

Peeta enters the room and his eyes instantly lock on me. He's carrying a large crate.

"What's that?" Haymitch asks.

Peeta steps around the debris on the floor and sets the crate on the table before Haymitch. "These were left over from the wedding," he states.

Puzzled, Haymitch lifts the lid and gasps in delight. "Boy," he says, his eyes somewhat watery, "this is why you are my favorite." And then he points to me. "Take notes."

I roll my eyes while he breaks the seal on a bottle of champagne from the Capitol. I remember that I was going to try some last night, but now I'm glad I didn't.

Peeta's watching me. I say nothing.

Haymitch cuts the silence. "Katniss was just telling me how sorry she is about what happened last night."

Peeta's eyes never leave me. "She was not," he snaps.

"No. But she _is _going to tell _you_. Katniss!"

I've had just about enough of Haymitch for one day. "Sorry," I mutter.

The measure of sullenness in Peeta's demeanor does not waver. "Sorry for _what_, Katniss?" he demands, "For kissing me? For _not_ kissing me? At any rate, you certainly don't _sound_ sorry."

I don't even know what to say. I _am_ sorry. I was up half the night, alternating between shameful fantasies of kissing him again and imagining what I might tell him today. Nothing good comes to mind.

Peeta sighs and turns to go.

"Wait," I stammer, "Peeta..."

He freezes, then slowly turns around, waiting for an answer.

"I.. I _am_ sorry." This would be much easier if he weren't standing there all fiery mad and luscious.

I meander over to him. His features haven't changed. "I'm _not _going to kiss you again," he says, "not until you be nice to me."

He's _what_? Withholding his affections at ransom? I can't decide whether that is cute or infuriating, so I just clasp my arms around him.

"That's better, but-"

"Since when can you resist my charm, anyway?" I say as I gaze up at him a little too innocently.

"Um, since you don't have any?" I glower at him. "Okay," he says, "since today. Katniss, I-"

And I'm kissing him again. I can feel the tension in his jaw lessen with each second. I kiss his neck, just below his ear, and then his cheek, and then return to his lips again. He finally breaks and kisses me back. The only coherent thought that I'm able to form is that _I don't want to stop_.

I take a breath and lean in to kiss him again.

"No," Peeta whispers. "Tell me about last night first."

He's still angry with me. My face grows hot. "Can't you let it go? What's it matter _now_, anyway?"

"It matters because you were fine with me until I told you I loved you!" he shoots back.

I can see the pain in his eyes and it nearly deflates me. It's too much. I need to get out of here. "I have to go," I say. I attempt to sidestep around him, but he blocks me.

"Oh yes," he spits out bitterly. "Go, because you can't bear to be honest with me. Better yet, I'll spare you the trouble." And then he's gone.

Stung by his words, I stand there frozen, unsure what to do.

"Well that was fun," I hear Haymitch say. I jump. I almost forgot where I was.

Hot angry tears of despair threaten to spill onto my cheeks. "What do I do now, Haymitch?" I ask, my voice raspy and too high-pitched.

He blinks, watching me as I try not to cry. "I would say to leave him alone for awhile, but.. it might be hard getting him to talk to you again."

"Exactly." My face is wet and salty now.

He rises. "You should go after him," he says.

"But-"

"Now. I mean it, go get him _right now_." And he pushes me out the door.

Tentatively, I take a few steps. It's bright outside, much brighter than I remember. Squinting, I scan the area and see that Peeta hasn't made it that far. He's nearly to his door when I call his name. But this time he doesn't stop. I start running toward him.

"Peeta!" I half-squawk, half-choke out. Maybe the tone of my voice is what makes him halt. I don't even care. But as soon as he turns around, I see all the anger and hurt drain from his face til all that's left is concern. For me. "Peeta," I say again. Immediately, I am enveloped in his arms, and it feels so good. And he's apologizing for how he spoke to me, yet all I can think is how I definitely don't deserve him. But he's mine.

He gives me a light kiss on the lips. "Katniss, talk to me," he says.

I don't want to say another word. I want to keep him like this.

"Katniss?" his voice is softer now, and then he's drawing me in for another kiss that leaves me breathless. "Katniss?" he tries again.

"You make me so happy," I murmur before I can stop myself. I instantly regret it. And he notices.

But he doesn't get upset or angry. I see something in his eyes, a shift in understanding, or.. I don't know what. All I know is that instead of another verbal lashing, I am rewarded with another kiss.

Then he whispers, "Don't you _want _to be happy?" and tips his head back to get a better look at me. But my lips feel tethered to his, and I lean forward as I nod yes. He smiles before meeting my lips again. "Because you make _me_ so happy, too," he soothes.

I hang on his every word but force myself to shake my head. "No," I say.

But as if he were casting a spell, he says, "Yes." And he kisses me again. He's confusing me. My head is full of him. "I hurt you," I am still able to utter. His lips just barely graze mine when he speaks again. "But you don't want to hurt me," he says. "Do you?"

"No!" I say, and then I burrow my face into his chest. I haven't been able to break eye contact until now. My eyes feel dry, like it'd be better if I just cried. Peeta strokes my back and I let him hold me for a long time before I realize what he's tried to do.

"You were doing something to me," I accuse.

He sighs. "I was trying to get you to tell me what's wrong. Why you keep fighting me."

And I feel like such a fool. Who knew that the boy with the bread could keep me so mesmerized with his kisses? I begin to hate myself for such a weakness. "Don't try something like that again."

Peeta almost snorts. "Or you'll what? Snip at me some more?"

Again, I'm angry with him. I push away, but he grabs my hand before we're fully separated.

"Katniss," he entreats. "Don't do this. Come inside."

I'm reluctant to go, but I'm also reluctant to stay.

"I'll bake you some bread," he says with an impish grin.

I can't not laugh at that. So I go inside with him.

A/N: When did this fic get so shippy? This is what happens when I stay up all night writing because I can't sleep. (I have party girl roommates.)


	4. Chapter 4

I burst through Peeta's front door with a bucket dangling from my fingers and a jar of goat's milk in my other hand. The bucket slips and falls to the floor with an echoing thud. Luckily, it lands on its bottom and nothing falls out.

Peeta juts his head into the hall doorway, perplexed. "Hey," he calls as he rushes over to take the bucket I've just bent down to grab. The handle's been missing since before I was born, so it's a little awkward to hold. "Strawberries?" he asks.

"Yes," I grin, "the last of the year, probably. Have you had them before?" We step into his kitchen and I set the milk down on the counter.

Peeta's brow furrows as he picks one up and gingerly sniffs it. "I think so, maybe once or twice. A long time ago, anyway. I can't remember what they taste like."

"Try 'em," I say, prodding him with my finger. He looks at it a little wary, so I tell him, "They're the best. I just dropped some off at Gale's and Madge's houses."

"Well, I remember the last time you tried to feed me berries," he jokes.

"You mean that time I saved your life?" I roll my eyes and pluck the biggest one from the top of the pile and take a bite. "Mmm. See?" I ask a little too innocently.

"_And_ the time before that!" he smirks and apparently waits for me to get sleepy.

I surprise him by snatching his hand and pushing his strawberry into his face. With it inches from his lips, he's laughing and takes a bite. I chew the rest of mine and watch him nod his approval.

"Very good," he says before popping the rest of it into his mouth. "Are these all for me?"

"Yup. I didn't know if you'd be over for supper or not tonight. Here's some milk, too. From Lady." I slide the jar over.

"Mm-hmm, any excuse to come see me," he says before sidling over and giving me a kiss.

Slightly indignant, I tell him, "I wanted to reciprocate a little. For the bread."

"You don't have to reciprocate with _me_, Katniss," he whispers, the mischief gone from his blue eyes.

I wrap my arms around him. "I know. But I wanted to. And I _did_ want to see you."

He smiles so happily that my heart warms, and I can't help but return it. I lean into his chest and close my eyes, breathing him in deep. I'd wished I'd stayed over the last few nights, after we made up from our fight.

I keep having this dream, where he's agreed to climb a tree and sleep for the night in the arena. A parachute lands far out on the branch above us. He hops up to go get it, and I try to tell him to wait, that I'll get it, but he scrambles after it before I can stop him.

The first night he just fell. I screamed his name before climbing halfway down and jumping. He wouldn't wake; he was gone. I stayed with him, crying, until he grew cold and the sun came up. Then Cato's face loomed above me and his sword came down, and that's when I woke up, covered in sweat, my heart racing. Prim was there, all ready to hug and comfort me.

The second night, he reached the parachute. But when he opened it, it wasn't a gift from _our_ sponsors—it was something else: a contraption that was rigged to burrow a knife into the face of the person who opened it.

And last night, after he'd retrieved the parachute, a mutt squirrel leaped onto him and tore open his jugular with its hideously sharp teeth. He bled out in minutes while I tried to staunch the flow with his shirt. I woke up before I ever found out what was in the parachute this time. Then I shot at least half a dozen squirrels this morning with a vengeance. Right through the eyes, like always.

I think that I'm more scared to lose him now that I've given in to keeping him. I don't feel so helplessly drawn to him anymore (which is a good thing), but I miss him more. And here he is, heart beating and healthy. Maybe a little tired, but looking good. I realize I haven't kissed him nearly enough in the past few days, and link my arms around his neck while my lips touch his. His blond hair keeps falling into his eyes, so I comb it back with my fingers and let out a yelp when he lifts me up onto a stool.

"Better?" he asks, laughing. We're at eye level now.

I nod, and grab his shirt collar to pull him towards me. "What were you doing when I came in?" I ask between kisses, suddenly curious.

"Painting. Upstairs," he replies.

I flash back to him covered in mud and plants, and him tinkering around at the camouflage station in the training center. "Can I see?"

"Okay. Yeah," he says, "c'mon," and takes my hand in his.

Sunlight streams in the room upstairs. A gentle breeze blows the lacy curtains in through the one open window out of five. Peeta's paintings line the walls beneath the windows, totaling about twenty canvases. My chest tightens when I see them. They are all images from the Games. Every drop of blood and every blade of grass. I am a recurring theme throughout several of them. I'm washing his clothes; I'm looking through the trees; I'm making the blind we couldn't use in the cave.

He startles me when he asks, "What do you think?"

At a loss for better words, I offer lamely, "they're so lifelike."

"Do you like them?"

"No," I say. "I hate them." I don't know what I'd thought I was going to see. Sunsets and flowers, maybe? I relive the Games each night, but he's here, alone, reliving them each day. "All I want is to forget the arena, and you've made it real all over again."

"I can't forget it. I see it again and again every night," he says.

"Me too," I say hollowly. "They're excellent, though, Peeta. Really." I turn and see the one that's propped up on the easel, unfinished. "When was this?" I ask. It's me, emerging from a cloud.

"I don't remember exactly. It might have been when I was sick, or after you gave me those sugar berries," he answers.

"I'm never gonna live that down, am I?"

"Never. I was _so_ mad at you for that!"

"Well I'm not sorry. That was _me_, saving your life. _Again_," I say.

He's quiet a long time. Then, in a small voice, he says, "you really scared me, Katniss."

"Come here," I say, stepping closer to him and giving him a hug.

"I'm grateful you saved me," he continues, "but I'd never have forgiven you or myself if you didn't make it."

"Well I _did_ make it," I tell him. "I didn't leave you all alone."

He shakes his head and says, "that's not what I mean, Katniss. I didn't—I don't—want to lose you." I kiss him, but he pulls away. "That's what my nightmares are like. I keep losing you, every time I shut my eyes. And I'm scared that one day I'll wake up and you'll really be gone."

"Peeta, I'm right here. You're not going to lose me," I assure him, and when I kiss him again, he does not pull away. I realize that I don't like the idea of him here, cooking just for himself night after night. I have my mother and Prim for company; he is alone here.

"Hey, it's almost suppertime. Will you come over to my house?" I ask.

He touches his nose to mine and gazes into my eyes. "Sure," he says.

"And I want you there every night after," I say.

He laughs. "Okay."

"You promise?"

Grinning, he says, "I promise," and laces his fingers with mine. And I lead him down the stairs, away from his bad dreams.

A/N: Thanks for all the positive reviews, everyone! I do appreciate them. I know it's been awhile since I've updated this. I thought it was pretty much done because of where I'd left off, but then I was craving strawberries this weekend and that seemed to inspire me. I totes bought some when I was in the middle of writing this, too. JSYK, they were delicious. Anyway, I may be motivated to continue this. I guess it depends on where the story takes me. And my mood. Normally, I have a plan with stories and I map everything out. But I just keep pulling all this out of a fluffy place in my brain, though, so I have no idea where I'm going with it. I guess we'll see, hehe.


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